


Dear Stupid Diary

by DerelictJane



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, M/M, Sonny is not always so perfect, Will is clueless and will stay that way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DerelictJane/pseuds/DerelictJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonny is always so perfect, until he's not. Good thing only his stupid diary will ever know it.</p><p>This is a one-shot, angsty and grumpy and full of cusswords.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Stupid Diary

Dear Stupid Diary,

First, let me say that I feel like an idiot writing this, and I probably wouldn’t be bothering at all but for the fact that the social worker in the hospital warned me that if I don’t find a way to channel my aggression I’m going to wind up really hurting Will.

So fine. Here I am, frickin’ channeling. And if this doesn’t work I might take up kickboxing. This just seemed less…extreme. Hopefully I don’t need extreme. I’m not that angry. I don’t think.

Before I go all pre-pubescent teen in this stupid diary (seriously, do you actually know any grown men who keep a diary?) I’ll just lay out the most important things first:

     1)      I love Will Horton. I love him desperately and permanently and hopelessly. Which leads us to…

     2)      I am so fucking angry at Will Horton that I kinda want to scream. All the time. Which leads us to...

     3)      The social worker, who found me sobbing at 3 in the morning in a virtually empty hospital and somehow managed to get me to spill my pathetic guts out. And who then warned me about the whole don’t-let-this-build-til-you-can’t-help-but-go-aggro thing. Which leads us to…

     4)      This diary, which Will will never ever ever see and which I’ll probably burn if – I mean, _when_ – I manage to get this stupid anger issue under control.

So here’s me, at my most needy and wretched worst, just for you, dear stupid diary. You've been warned.

On that note: 

**_Why why why_** did this have to happen? Why did Will have to become a dad before he even got a chance to figure out what kind of man he wanted to be? What kind of boyfriend and maybe, someday, what kind of husband? WHY?

If you saw me in the hospital, holding Will’s baby, here’s what you’d think: _oh Sonny, what an upstanding guy, what a wonderful partner to Will. Lucky lucky little Arianna Grace, lucky to have such a heroic dad and such great guy who loves her dad and blah blah fucking blah…._

FINE. YES, I’m a great guy. And I will love that baby, and I will make sure I do everything I can to make her life wonderful, so don’t go all apeshit on me, stupid diary. But really, _really_ , WHY WHY WHY DID SHE HAVE TO JOIN US **SO SOON?**

So, yeah, that’s how I feel. And really, is that so wrong? Is it so wrong that I wanted – selfishly, I know, I know! – to have some time to be with my boyfriend before we had to take on this…this parenting thing? We could have traveled and explored and seen midnight movie showings and made love at any hour of the day and brought each other to screaming orgasms in a riot of noise and passion and now…we can’t. We won’t.

And yeah yeah yeah I know you can travel with a kid. And I know sometimes she’ll be at her mom’s or with one of her grandmother’s or great-grandmother’s so we can make some sexy noise, but we all know it’s not the same. It’s not, because she’ll still be _there_. She’ll still be a part of our decision-making, every minute of every day, whether she’s physically around in that particular moment or not.

And that leads me to my biggest pisser of all, the thing that I can barely bring myself to admit because it’s just so fucking _wrong_ to feel this way and I know it but if I can’t tell this to you, stupid diary, then I don’t know who to tell it to and this is what the social worker was worried about so FINE, here it is:

 **I** want to be the most important thing in Will’s life.

**ME.**

**I** want to be the one that makes him laugh the hardest and feel the greatest.

      **I** want to be the first person he thinks of in the morning and the last person he thinks of when we go to sleep at night.

 **I** want to be the one he loves the most.

      And now I won’t be, and I never will be again. _Ever._

And it’s not like I wanted to be his #1 forever, but was it too much to want it for now? I’m 22 years old, for fuck's sake. I’m not ready to share yet. I’m just…not.

Also: is it so wrong to want me and Will to have time for mindless, thoughtless _fun_ together before we take on the role of dad?

OH YEAH, that’s the other thing. The “dad” thing. We haven’t talked about it, but… what is my role here, exactly? Am I a dad too? Or are we gonna go with some sort of clichéd Jolly Uncle Sonny? Or here’s a good one: “Daddy’s Special Friend,” who brought you into this world straight from your mom’s bleeding body but is now relegated to the role of that-guy-who-fights-me-for-Daddy’s-attention?

And that brings me back to the hating-Will-thing, that gross awful cancer that I would give anything not to have inside me. Because, really, here’s what I really wonder, when I am at my lowest and most pitiful:

**How could he _do_ this to us, to _me?_**

All I did was love him and love him and then he goes and knocks up a chick and lies about it and then finally tells me - only not really me, actually every single person who’s important to us – that he’s going to be a dad and then he breaks my idiot heart by telling me he was going to give up the baby for me which makes me feel like shit and then because I love him so fucking much I can’t say no when he wants to get back together and then he goes all superhero on our goddamn asses and next thing I know I’m holding his just-born baby and he’s shot and we’re (we’re?!?) parents and FUCK.

All I wanted was to love him. That’s all. And now…this. 

And I’ll be good, you know that. I know that. Everyone knows that. Will is the love of my stupid life and I’ll be whoever he needs me to be. Even Jolly Uncle Sonny. I’ll choke down my bile and I’ll be it.

But I know – and now you, stupid diary, also know – that this isn’t what I wanted. And on those days when my yearning for what could have been threatens to overtake me, I’ll find you, and I’ll let all my helpless, pointless rage spill onto your ridiculously scented pink pages.

And then I’ll go back to William Horton, the love of my life, and to Arianna Grace Horton, the love of his life, and I will be who they think I am, and whoever they need me to be.


End file.
